


roses don't bloom in winter

by craftingdead



Series: charlie will make cd a common tag if it kills them [17]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Character Injury, happy birthday eden hope u like ur gift of death blood and destruction, i mean he didn't exactly DIE at the end yet it wasn't confirmed that he was saved SO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 03:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15986246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: But none of those beginnings, middles, and end is the truth. None of them fully capture what truly happened on that cold, winter’s night.Here’s what really happened.





	roses don't bloom in winter

Maybe it started like this: Nick decided against going with his friends on this particular scouting mission. A mission they were going on because they, like nearly everyone still scattered across this broken planet, was paranoid there was something there. Someone waiting around the corner with a knife in hand and narrowed eyes. Normally, he would go, but this time—nah. The end of the beginning, beginning of the end—however you would like to put it. He stayed at home in the warmth of the CDC.

Maybe it ended like this: Nick ignored the strange sounds and headed back to his friends. Because, I mean, who would attack a whole group like this? Especially a group armed to the teeth; guns out and ready to go, ready to blast a hole in your skull.

Perhaps the middle was nothing. Just the feel of snow falling against his head and his feet across it. Nick shivered and pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, reveling in the warmth it gave him.

But none of those beginnings, middles, and end is the truth. None of them fully capture what truly happened on that cold, winter’s night.

Here’s what really happened.

 

* * *

 

“I’m pretty sure we have to go this way.”

“Nah, I’m pretty damn sure we took a wrong turn several turns back!”

“I’m pretty sure you’re a piece of shit!”

Nick blew a flake of snow off of his face. It had only been coming down harder, several inches coating the frozen ground. It was becoming harder and harder to travel, focused only on his breath fanning out in front of him, not tripping and getting a face-full of snow, and trying to keep his hands from shaking. The scarf around his neck was the near only thing keeping him from the bitter cold coursing from head to toe and incapacitating him.

Next to him, Shelby let out a loud groan. She didn’t look any happier than he was, but at least she was bundled up in an extra jacket—always the one to think ahead. “If we’re lost, I’m kicking both of your asses,” she said, “because I am freezing! It’s horrible out here, and night is falling!”

“Shelby’s right,” AK said. “Night’s falling quickly. We either need to find the way back or get to shelter. And soon. I don’t know if some of us can make it much longer.” With that, he gave a not so subtle glance towards Nick and Shelby, slugging behind everybody else.

“You calling me weak?”

“I’m saying,” AK quickly added, putting his hands in front of himself, “that… some people in our group don’t look to be catching up any time soon. And I don’t want anyone here collapsing or getting hypothermia or something. And, remember—Gray sent us out here to check out a bandit group. None of us want to deal with that in the dark, much less the cold.”

“Amen!” Ghetto and Shark chorused from the front of the group. Uni, besides them, gave a swift nod.

“I agree.” Head’s swiveled to look at Nick as he talked. “We… really need to find shelter soon. None of us are doing well, and since we can’t figure out the map”—Shark scoffed loudly—”we need to find a different solution that isn’t, well, that isn’t the CDC.”

Uni spoke up, “If I remember correctly, when me and Co—when I was exploring this area, I found a cabin… cottage… thingy not far up ahead. If we manage to find it, we may just not freeze our butts off tonight.”

Nick gave him a warm smile that melted away the snow on his face. “Good idea, Uni!” Ghetto let out a whoop and Shark cheered.

“But…,” AK started. “I don’t really wanna, y’know, ruin the mood and everything, but what if that’s where the bandits are staying? Gray did mention that they might have a base somewhere around here. Remember the broken down truck? We passed that not too long ago.”

No one said anything for a while. The wind howled, nearly drowning out AK’s words—but the gravity of their situation was still obvious. Shelby reached through the cold and snow and held tightly onto Nick’s hand, squeezing. Without realizing it, it seemed, Nick squeezed back, unconscious of how close they’d drifted as AK warned them about potential dangers. Some habits never seemed to leave, huh?

“Then we better get going.” If anybody was going to say anything, it was gonna be Nick. It was always Nick. He was the “leader,” of course it was going to be him—always the one to think of plans, to get the gang out of tough situations. Or, at least, to finalize decisions.

Ghetto cracked a smile. “That’s more like it. Besides,” he said, “what could go wrong?”

A gunshot rang through the air.

Shelby instinctively ducked, nearly bringing Nick down with her. AK and Ghetto already had weapons out, Uni reaching for him. Shark was looking around like a deer in headlights. Further down the path, from where they came, stood a few men. All armed to the fucking teeth, even more so than this group already was. Shark nearly lost his life to a bullet that grazed past his skull, clearing a line of hair across it.

“Split up!” Nick yelled. “They can’t come after us all!”

The warmth in his hand left. Shelby was taking off into the trees, Uni hot on her heels. Ghetto looked at Nick before leaving the opposite side. AK and Shark were gone before Nick could even blink. So that left him to take the path they had been walking down, blissfully oblivious to the predators stalking them in the shadows.

A bullet whizzed past his neck, lifting the hairs on the back of it. Adrenaline pumped through his body as he ran, warming him up and sending frizzled, panicked thoughts across his brain. _Shelby and Uni got out, AK and Shark booked it, Ghetto did too—they’re all safe. We’re all safe._ Another bullet flew past, his head tilting to look at it as it rammed itself into an upcoming tree. _Well. Not all of us._

He could hear a masculine voice cussing from behind him, and the distinct sound of a gun being reloaded. A large branch was on the path in front of him, and Nick tripped over it as he ran, barely catching himself in time.

Nick risked a glance behind him. The man was tall—dark hair, pale skin. The only noticeable features about him, besides the murderous glint in his eye and the gun in his hand. Gray mentioned someone like this— _fuck_ , was he getting chased by the leader of the pack? The gun was pointed at his back.

He scrambled for his own. The pistol slid into his hand. A few shots behind him and he could feel the footsteps fading away. He missed all of them, Nick knew that, but at least it was getting his attacker away from him,

Another shot later, and—fuck, he needed to reload. “Shit,” Nick whispered, just loud enough to hear himself over the wind. A shot punched through his gut and Nick stumbled, letting out a cry of pain and surprise. He pressed his hand against it to feel blood pouring out of the wound, coursing between his fingers. It splattered onto the white snow and damn, any chances of escape were gone now.

A hand wrapped around his chest and yanked him back. Nick nearly lost the gun in his hand at the motion, and swiftly kicked back. The figure barely moved, only the faint feeling of a wince against Nick’s back to prove that he felt any pain at all.

Nick could barely feel the pain from the bullet, just a sense of annoyance and panic at the fact that he was probably bleeding out. It was slowly coming into focus, however; a dull throbbing that got worse with every passing second. The man pressed into it hard and Nick nearly screamed.

He did feel it, however, when the man attempted to disarm him and rip the pistol from his hands. Nick slammed his head back into the man’s head. He cursed loudly, but still had a steady grip on Nick’s wrist and was trying to twist the pistol out of it. Nick stretched his arm out away and the grip loosened further down his arm, nails digging into his upper arm. That grip tightened and his other arm pulled Nick closer—he could hardly breathe against the way the man was holding him. The other grip—with help from the arm around Nick’s chest—tightened until Nick could barely feel it and then twisted, hard.

The bones snapped easily. A cry tore out of Nick’s throat and he slammed the back of his other elbow into the attacker. The pistol was lone gone, forgotten in the chaos, but he still had a chance. If he could only just get away, scream for help, maybe. One of the others were bound to help him—

Rough hands shoved him into the ground. Nick went down hard, yelling “fuck!” as his back hit the ground. That “fuck” was forgotten as a familiar hand pulled his head up by the hair and slammed it back down, knocking any other cuss words out of his mouth. He was too dizzy to see, too dizzy to do anything—wait.

He brought his knee up. The man yelped and fell away from Nick, cursing and calling him every insult and slur in the book. What was this dudes deal? He just kept coming after Nick, guns blazing.

Nick was running the best he good. The wound in his stomach was hurting like a bitch, and he had to hold a hand against it (gently) to stop it from bleeding out. From the front, that is. His other arm was completely useless. Nick could only bend it at an angle to help keep himself from dropping dead from blood loss. He could already feel the color draining out of his face. If only he could find a way to contact the others; who knew if yelling would work? They may be too far away.

Another bullet was shot and it went straight through his knee and out, shattering the kneecap. Nick fell.

It was… in all honesty, it was nothing like he had ever felt before. When he landed, he landed on his broken arm, so that hurt a lot, but this….

Alright. Nick had dealt with pain before. He had dealt with getting shot in the shoulder, spraining ankles and wrists, nearly breaking his leg a few times. He could deal with pain! Everyone he knew could, they had to, to be able to survive this world!

But the pain that came when the fragile bones in his knee broke? When the bones broke, no, shattered; when the ligaments tore; when whatever the fuck else was in his knee got absolutely destroyed: he felt like he was dying. Nothing like he’d ever felt before. Black spots floated in his vision and Nick swore he blacked out for a second—long enough to get from being upright to on the ground. And, the moment he hit the ground, the moment he was knocked back into consciousness by even more pain jolting up his leg and shaking his entire body and—and forcing a choked sob from his mouth, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes—Nick _screamed_.

The next thing he screamed was Ghetto’s name. The words tearing out of his throat, ripping his vocal cords to shreds. He screamed Ghetto’s name because there were no other names to scream ( _your sister, your sister is alive and she’s safe and she’d know if you were hurt and if you could only let her know you exist she exists_ ). The man was backing away ( _fuck you fuck you fuck you you’re gonna pay for this she’s gonna ram a gun up your ass and pull the trigger you motherfucker_ ) and it was only a few more seconds before he was gone, footsteps fading away into nothingness.

Nick was alone.

The only thing he could hear was animals in the underbrush snapping twigs (or were that his friends, running to find him?), the occasional bird call (or the sound of voices screaming his name). The only thing he could feel was pain, pain so intense it brought him to his knees (ha.) or maybe something running. Some animal running (his friends, coming to save him?).

Nick was alone.

There were roses on the ground. Red roses blooming across the snow from where he laid. They shouldn’t be there, Nick thought, but he couldn’t figure out a way that they could’ve gotten there. Roses don’t bloom in winter. Everybody knows that.

A bird called in the distance. Night had completely fallen, and yet Nick could see the roses bright as day against the ground. As bright as the sun, lighting up the darkness. When was morning again? Nick didn’t know, couldn’t know. His memory was getting fuzzy. What was he doing here?

Roses don’t bloom in winter. There were roses and their petals scattered across the ground. They were blooming on his stomach. Everything went black.


End file.
